Our Time is Short
by lovetheblazer
Summary: After a particularly long day of dance rehearsal, Chris collapses on set, leaving a very worried Darren to take care of him. But maybe almost losing Chris is what it takes for Darren to see the truth of his relationship with Chris? CrissColfer RPF
1. Divine Intervention

**Summary: Zach wasn't kidding when he said he prepared some extra challenging new choreography for Blaine and Kurt's latest duet on Glee. Chris might have actually enjoyed learning the dance if it wasn't for the nagging sore throat, cough, and fever that kept creeping up on him. After a particularly long day of dance rehearsal, Chris collapses on set, leaving a very worried Darren to take care of him and pray that he's okay. But maybe almost losing Chris is what it takes for Darren to see the truth of his relationship with Chris? Criss/Colfer RPF, Chris Colfer Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, & Eventually Romance.**

**Warnings: Character Injury, Discussion of Medical Procedures, Sexual Banter in Later Chapters**

**Spoiler Alert: Takes place in mid-July of 2011 as actors have just come back to set to begin filming Season 3 of Glee, Alludes to events that took place during Glee Live Tour during June 2011**

**Author's Notes: I finally decided to go ahead and post this story that I've been working on over at LJ (username: sarahannmac if you want to check it out). I'm obsessed with Klaine and love writing for Kurt and Blaine. But I'm also loving the friendship and the hints at "something more" as a result of the palpable chemistry and mutual admiration between Chris Colfer and Darren Criss on-screen and off. I'm sure you've probably seen the Klaine skit from Glee Live in Dublin with the unscripted kiss between Darren and Chris (and if you haven't, you should YouTube it immediately). Well, that got my imagination flowing and this story just wouldn't get out of my head. This is my first attempt at Chris/Darren RPF and actually my first attempt at RPF of any kind, so please go easy on me. Hopefully it won't be awful... I definitely welcome any constructive criticism you can give me. **

Chris sighed as the twang of the ukelele started up, signaling the beginning of what was at least his tenth rehearsal of the complicated choreography for a duet with Darren set to Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours." It was nearing 7:30 pm and Chris had arrived on set at 5 AM this morning to begin hair and makeup for his long day of shooting and was currently exhausted and feeling miserable.

He'd filmed two dialogue scenes before lunch, one with his on-screen dad Mike O'Malley and another with Darren. By lunchtime, all he'd wanted was a nap and so while the rest of the cast happily chowed down on craft services, gossiping about the upcoming Emmy nominations and their plans for the weekend, Chris had begged off, grabbing a smoothie before retiring to his trailer for an all-too-brief nap. The nagging headache and raw, scratchy throat he'd discovered upon waking up this morning seemed to be growing with each passing hour, and the mere thought of swallowing the nachos that the rest of the cast was scarfing down made his stomach churn and his throat throb. Chris sighed heavily as he slid the door to his trailer closed and slumped onto the small futon couch that he and Darren shared. Depending on their shooting and rehearsal schedules, they sometimes slept in shifts, taking turns stretching out on the futon and sometimes found themselves so exhausted that they fell asleep tangled together on the small couch, often with Chris resting his head in Darren's lap while Darren read scripts or jotted down lyrics to his next original song and absentmindedly played with Chris's hair. Chris always relished those quiet moments together. While he and Darren were admittedly only friends, they shared a physical intimacy that Chris had rarely experienced with another male, gay or straight. Chris knew how comfortable Darren was with his sexuality, but also couldn't help but feeling as if the chemistry they shared on screen and on tour wasn't entirely acting, as he often felt the sparks when they were alone and sharing a quiet moment cuddling on the couch or strolling around the deserted set arm-in-arm. As much as Chris cherished those quiet moments that he spent physically and emotionally close to Darren, he found himself relieved today that for once that he was alone.

Chris managed to sit up long enough to reach into a drawer next to the futon and rummage around until he found a half empty bottle of DayQuil. He was desperate for any medication that might provide even temporary relief from the pounding headache and searing ache in his throat. Without bothering to check the correct dosage, Chris brought the bottle of DayQuil to his lips, swigging a large mouthful straight from the bottle. He grimaced at the sickly sweet aftertaste and quickly chased the medication with a long sip of his blueberry smoothie, sighing in relief at the feel of the icy cool liquid against his burning throat. He carelessly dropped the half empty bottle of DayQuil and half-finished smoothie to the coffee table in front of him and stretched out on the futon, his eyes closing as soon as they made contact with the throw pillow. As Chris drifted off into a fitful, dreamless sleep, he realized he hadn't even managed to take off his shoes or uncomfortably starched costume blazer. "Oh well," he mumbled to himself. Lou could always yell at him later, but for now, he didn't have the energy to even care.

Not five minutes later, Darren slipped quietly into the trailer he shared with Chris, noticing immediately that Chris was sprawled haphazardly across the futon, still fully dressed in his now rumpled costume from the scene that they'd shared just before lunch. Darren quickly took in the melted and half-full smoothie on the coffee table that was the only thing he'd seen Chris eat or drink all day as well as the open and half empty bottle of DayQuil, confirming his suspicions that Chris was sick. Darren first noticed that Chris had been uncharacteristically quiet in the hair and makeup trailer this morning. Granted, they'd started hair and makeup quite early and Darren had no doubt that Chris had gotten very little sleep the night before, but Chris usually was quite the chatterbox in the morning, always loving to gossip with Eryn, Melissa, Janis and all the other hair and makeup staff.

Later, as they were filming their scene together just before lunchtime, Darren noticed that Chris's voice sounded a bit rough and hoarse and he visibly winced several times when swallowing. Darren tried asking Chris if he was getting sick, but Chris had waved off his concerns irritably. Chris took great pride in his work ethic and never complained about the long hours, illnesses, and injuries that were part of being on the show and touring with Glee Live. Chris's motto was that if you didn't acknowledge an illness, you couldn't actually be sick. This attitude had worried and frustrated Darren on a number of occasions as it meant that Chris was absolutely terrible at taking care of himself, and even worse at letting other people take care of him when he was sick or hurt. As Darren reached down to gently feel Chris's forehead, wincing at unnatural heat radiating from Chris's skin, he thought back to the first time he'd truly understood just how tough Chris was after witnessing Chris become violently ill with food poisoning after eating a particularly dodgy hot dog from a truck stop gas station in East Rutherford, New Jersey.

_FLASHBACK – JUNE 16TH – GLEE LIVE TOUR - EAST RUTHERFORD, NJ_

_Chris had spent the entire night lying helplessly on the bathroom floor in their shared hotel room, trying to sleep in between bouts of projectile vomiting. Darren felt awful for him and tried to comfort him as best he could by bringing him water, placing cool washcloths on his forehead, and rubbing his back gently as he threw up again and again. Darren had insisted that Chris see the hotel doctor the next morning, threatening to call their choreographer Zach if necessary to force Chris to seek medical attention. Chris had finally relented and allowed the hotel doctor to come to their hotel room to examine him. The doctor determined that Chris had a bad case of food poisoning that was worsened by exhaustion, a fever of 102, and severe dehydration. He'd ended up setting Chris up with an IV drip in their hotel room to get some fluids into him and given him injections of medications for fever and nausea. He'd strongly recommended at least 24-48 hours of bed rest and had given Darren strict instructions to monitor Chris's fluid intake and temperature, encouraging Darren to page him if Chris started vomiting again or seemed to be getting worse in any way. _

_Darren had been relieved when the medications that the doctor administered finally started to kick in, allowing Chris to stop vomiting and sleep peacefully for the first time since he'd first fallen ill almost 24 hours ago. Once Darren was sure that Chris was resting comfortably, he'd decided to take a shower as he needed to prepare for their Glee Live performance in East Rutherford, NJ that evening, even though the thought of leaving Chris alone in the hotel while the rest of the cast went to their performance made Darren dizzy with worry. He'd climbed out of the shower, humming to himself and was surprised to see that Chris was not only awake, but that he'd removed the IV line from his hand and was putting together a bag with his tour costumes and assorted props, clearly planning to not only get out of bed, but also to perform in the show that same night. This ludicrous disregard for his own health and safety had led Darren and Chris to having a very rare fight which Darren unfortunately lost. He shook his head at the memory of how he'd felt as he watched Chris sing and dance with an unwavering enthusiasm that belied his current physical state before nearly collapsing once he exited the stage after their final number. Darren had taken one look at Chris and scooped him up into his arms despite Chris's protests, carrying him to the tour bus that was waiting to take the cast to their hotel at the next tour stop. By the time they'd reached the bus, Chris's protests had died down and he'd sagged into Darren, burying his face in Darren's shoulder while resting his head against Darren's neck. Darren continued to hold Chris's shivering body in his arms even once they were seated on the bus, rocking him gently until he fell asleep, utterly exhausted, in Darren's arms. _

_Chris had slept hard and fast as they rode through the dark night to the hotel for their next tour stop in Long Island, NY. When they'd finally reached their hotel for the night, Darren simply took Chris in his arms once again, carrying him through the hotel lobby and up to their shared hotel room. He'd undressed Chris in the dim light of the distant New York skyline which they could see from the spectacular view from their hotel room window high up on the 32__nd__ floor. Darren easily removed Chris's bright blue Glee Live bomber jacket and henley tee, but struggled to slide Chris's tight-fitting skinny jeans from his lean legs. He finally managed to slide them off, revealing surprisingly simply heather gray boxer briefs by Calvin Klein which Darren couldn't help noticing were quite flattering against Chris's lean, newly muscled torso and shapely butt, hips, and thighs. Darren blushed slightly, ashamed at himself for ogling his ill, semi-conscious best friend. _

_He'd left Chris's bags on the tour bus since he wasn't able to carry Chris and his bags simultaneously, meaning that he didn't have any of Chris's clothing handy. Darren rummaged around in his small backpack which was the source of frequent mocking by Chris who was utterly amazed that Darren had packed so little for a two month, 40-plus location international tour. Darren was due for another laundromat stop so the best he could find for Chris to wear was a large, well-worn StarKid Potter T-shirt that Darren had slept in the night before. Darren sniffed it experimentally, deciding that it was clean enough to do for now. Darren placed a hand behind Chris's neck, gently lifting his head enough to slide the neck of the t-shirt over Chris's warm forehead. Next, he carefully took Chris's hand in his and fed it through the armhole of the t-shirt. Once he'd slipped both of Chris's arms through the armholes, he again slid his hand behind Chris's neck and back, lifting him slightly while his other hand gently trailed down Chris's chest and torso as he tugged down the hem of the t-shirt. _

_He gently lowered Chris's head back against the pillow, reaching up to brush a lock of hair that had fallen over Chris's eye back to his temple. Darren noted that Chris felt warm to the touch and that he was most likely was running a fever again from the stress he'd put his body through in the last 24 hours. Darren sighed in frustration at Chris's stubbornness, deciding to leave Chris in just his t-shirt and boxers so as not to overheat him, covering him with the sheet and light blanket, but leaving the heavy down duvet at Chris's feet. Darren placed a gentle kiss to Chris's temple before standing up and stretching his sore and aching muscles and reaching into his backpack again, choosing a mostly clean ribbed thermal henley tee and pair of plaid flannel pajama pants and dressing quickly for bed. Darren was exhausted as well from the long day of travel and performing and the even longer night before of sitting on the bathroom floor trying to care for Chris and worrying constantly about his physical state. Darren knew he should climb right into the queen sized bed next to Chris's and close his eyes since the alarm clock on the bedside table already read 3:04 am. Instead, Darren sat down on the edge of Chris's bed, placing a gentle hand to Chris's chest, finding the sensation of the rise and fall of Chris's chest with his even breathing to be incredibly soothing and reassuring. Darren's other hand went to Chris's hair, gently running his fingers through Chris's silky smooth locks again and again as he had so many times before while Chris napped in his lap between rehearsals in their shared trailer on set or on long drives on the Glee Live tour bus. _

_Darren remained there for several minutes, hypnotized by the feel and sound of Chris's slow, even breathing. Suddenly, the honk of a car outside the window on the street below startled Darren out of his hypnotic state and he reluctantly withdrew his hands from Chris's chest and hair and rose to climb into his bed. Just as he was standing, Chris's hand clutched his wrist out of nowhere. Darren's eyes flew to Chris's face, not realizing that Chris had been awake, blushing slightly at the thought of Chris knowing that Darren had just watched him sleep for well over ten minutes._

"_Darren? Where are you going?" Chris asked sleepily._

"_Hey Chris, how you feeling? I was just going to get in bed. It's late. Go back to sleep, hon. You need to rest." Darren answered gently, his voice low and soft in the darkness of their room._

"_Mmhhmm, Darren. Don't go. Stay. I want you to." Chris said meekly, wanting, no needing, the feel of Darren's strong arms around him._

_That was all the invitation Darren needed as he wanted nothing more to sleep next to Chris, to feel the warmth of his body, to sense Chris's soft breath against his cheek, and most of all to be able to truly hold Chris in his arms if only to reassure himself that Chris was going to be okay after the overwhelming worry of the last day. Without a word, Chris scooted over, making a space for Darren. Darren slid seamlessly beneath the covers next to Chris, continuing to scoot over until his body made contact with Chris's in the dark. He reached over and gently directed Chris's head to rest against his chest, with Chris's ear pressed to Darren's chest so that he could hear his heart beating a steady, peaceful rhythm. Darren wrapped his arm around Chris's torso, sliding his hand just under the hem of Chris's borrowed shirt to gently rub Chris's bare back. Chris sighed at the soothing sensation of being wrapped in Darren's arms, at being physically possessed by Darren in such an immediate way. Darren felt his body truly relax for the first time in the last 24 hours as he listened to Chris's slow and steady breaths. He was just on the edge of consciousness and nearing sleep when he heard Chris's voice in the dark, so soft as to be almost undetectable at first._

"_Darren? Thank you for taking care of me. And thank you even more for not saying I told you so." Chris whispered gratefully._

_Darren was silent for a moment, and Chris wondered if he was already asleep. But then Darren's voice rang out in the dark, still low and hushed, but with a surprisingly biting undercurrent of emotion still managing to make itself know in the intensity with which he spoke each word. _

"_Chris? I'll make you a deal. I won't say I told you so if you promise that you'll never do that to me again, okay?"_

_Chris was silent for a moment, unsure as to how to respond to Darren's request. "Darren, I...I just..."_

_Chris was cut off by Darren, his voice stronger and more insistent this time. "No, Chris. You don't get it... I don't think you know how much I worry about you. And I know how strong you are and that you want to show everyone that you can take care of yourself. But not with me, you don't need to put up that front with me. I know you are fully capable of taking care of yourself 99% of the time, but there's nothing wrong with being taken care of every once in awhile, okay? If you won't take care of yourself for your own sake, then at least do it for me, because it is physically and emotionally tortuous for me to see you sick or hurt or suffering in any way and not be able to help or fix it. When you nearly passed out backstage tonight, Chris, I almost lost it. I've never felt so helpless in my life. So please, don't do that to me again, okay?" Darren finished, his last words harsh from the lump forming in his throat that was threatening to rise up and spill his unshed tears._

_Chris was silent for several seconds, feeling a hot tear slide down his cheek in the dark at the raw emotion he felt pouring from every inch of Darren's body. Darren's words made a lot of sense and for the first time, Chris put himself in Darren's shoes and thought about he would have felt watching Darren fall so ill while still insisting on performing to the brink of blacking out. The mere visual image was enough to make him feel sick as a cold pit of dread invaded his stomach. Waves of guilt washed over him as he finally realized the hell he'd put Darren through in the past 24 hours. _

"_Darren, I'm so sorry. I didn't think...I didn't know that it would be so hard on you. I didn't mean to scare you, I just..." Chris trailed off, his thoughts racing while his words came out jumbled and his tongue slipped over phrase after phrase, rejecting them as cliched or cheesy._

"_Shh," Darren soothed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Chris's head. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean to worry me. Just promise me you won't do it again."_

"_I promise," breathed Chris. _

"_Go to sleep, honey." Darren commanded. "I'll be here when you wake up." And with that, Chris and Darren's eyes slid shut simultaneously as if on cue, and both men were able to relax completely for the first time in the last day, safe and secure in the knowledge that they would both be okay._

_Early morning light was streaming through the partially closed blinds as daybreak awoke. Chris opened his eyes, smiling as the first thing his eyes saw were Darren. Chris's head was snuggled on Darren's chest , resting in the small hollow beneath Darren's collarbone that seemed as if it was designed specifically to fit the contours of Chris's head and neck. He could feel Darren's warm breath gently rustling his hair as he breathed deeply and evenly. Chris shifted his hips slightly, noticing that Darren's hand was not only wrapped possessively around Chris's torso, but that sometime during the night, Darren had slid his hand beneath Chris's t-shirt and looped his thumb in the waistband of Chris's boxer-briefs. Chris breathed in deeply while trying his hardest not to move a muscle for fear of disturbing the exhausted boy in front of him, not wanting Darren to move even a millimeter from his current location lest he disturb the perfect way in which their bodies were currently fitted together, feeling to Chris as if their bodies had been specially designed much like the pieces of an interlocking jigsaw puzzle with this purpose in mind. _

_As Chris breathed in deeply, trying to absorb the moment with all of his five senses, to forever remember what it felt, looked, tasted, sounded, and smelled like to fit his body to Darren's, he got a whiff of Darren's unique scent, realizing in surprise that the scent was coming not only from the sleeping form currently serving as his human pillow, but from Chris's own body as well. He glanced down, noticing for the first time that at some point during the previous evening, Darren must have undressed him and put him in one of his t-shirts. Chris knew that the shirt he was currently wearing was one of Darren's favorites. It was a light silver color, well-worn with age and many washings, and best of all read "Red Vines: What the Hell Can't They Do?" a popular reference to A Very Potter Musical, Darren's viral hit. Chris dropped his head to his chest, sniffing the soft t-shirt and being flooded with the scent that was all at once clean, fresh, masculine, and uniquely Darren. He breathed in the aroma for several seconds before lifting his head and was startled to find Darren's eyes open and watching Chris carefully, an amused look on his face. _

"_Good morning," Darren rumbled, his tantalizingly low voice further deepened and hoarsened by the early hour, making him sound impossibly sexy to Chris. "I guess you figured out that the t-shirt I loaned you wasn't freshly laundered. Sorry Chris, but I'm overdue for another laundromat run and it was either that or you were sleeping shirtless."_

"_Mmm," Chris sighed contentedly. "I don't mind, trust me. It doesn't smell bad. It smells like you. And it is so soft. I'm keeping it."_

"_Oh you are, are you?" Darren asked with an amused chuckle. "I'll have you know that is one of my favorite shirts, so don't think I'm parting with it without you putting up some collateral."_

"_Nope, not buying it," Chris continued. "This is a Team Starkid shirt. You make money every time someone buys one of your shirts, so just think of all the free publicity you'll get out of me wearing this t-shirt. If I'm photographed by the paparazzi in it, your sales will go through the roof. I should be getting an endorsement deal just to wear it."_

_Darren let out a low, rumbling laugh and threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I know when I'm beat. The shirt is all yours. I'll even wash it for you."_

"_Hell no you won't," commanded Chris petulantly. "It smells like you. That's the best part. I'm never washing it."_

_Darren simply smiled, gently tweaking the tip of Chris's nose with his finger affectionately. "Come on, lazybones" he commanded, reaching up his arms to stretch dramatically. "We've got a big day ahead of us. Let's enjoy Long Island while we can before we have to get to the arena for sound check, okay?"_

_END FLASHBACK_

Darren was shaken from his reverie by the sound of Chris mumbling something incoherently in his sleep. Darren had been sent to the trailer by one of the production assistants to retrieve Chris as he was needed by Zach in the rehearsal studio so that the two of them could start learning the choreography for the duet that they'd be filming together tomorrow morning. He knew they were on a tight schedule and Zach had repeatedly warned Darren and Chris that this was one of the more ambitious numbers that he'd choreographed for them and included several lift stunts, something neither actor had any experience with. Darren considered leaving Chris to sleep and simply telling Zach that Chris was too illl to rehearse, but he knew that Chris would be livid at him if he made that decision without consulting with him first.

With a sigh, Darren moved his hand to gently shake Chris's shoulder, wanting to rouse him from his sleep as gently as he possibly could. "Chris? Hey sleepyhead, time to wake up. How are you feeling?" Darren asked with concern as he watched Chris slowly open his eyes and blink dumbly, seeming disoriented.

"Mhhmm, Darren? What time is it? How long have I been asleep?" Chris rasped hoarsely, a sound that was that was only worsened when Chris suddenly let out a deep, rattling cough that seemed to last far too long. Darren rubbed Chris's arm soothingly while he waited him to ride out the coughing jag before wordlessly handing him a chilled bottle of water from the nearby mini-fridge.

"Jesus Chris, you sound awful. You should be home in bed." Darren said worriedly.

"I'm fine," Chris said unconvincingly, clearing his throat and downing nearly a third of the water bottle in one long gulp. "Just need to hydrate. Is it time for us to get back to set?" he asked, glancing at his watch and seeing that it was just after 2 PM.

"Yeah, one of the PAs sent me to get you because Zach wants us in the studio to start rehearsing our choreography for tomorrow's number. But Chris, you seriously don't have to rehearse right now. I'm sure Zach will understand if we tell him that you are coming down with something."

"Darren, enough. I'm fine. Just tired. Let's get our practice on. The sooner we start rehearsing, the sooner we can learn the dance and be done for the day."

Darren knew Chris well enough to know it would be a waste of time to argue further with him and so he quickly grabbed a few bottles of water, thinking he could at least encourage Chris to drink plenty of fluids and stay hydrated as god knows that the last thing Chris needed at this point was to add dehydration to his list of symptoms. As he followed Chris out the front door of their trailer, he stealthily slipped a travel sized bottle of Tylenol into his blazer pocket, thinking that it could be useful in bringing down the fever that Darren suspected that Chris was currently running.

The hours since then had passed in a flurry of blocking, music, and difficult choreography. Zach hadn't been kidding when he'd said that this was going to be their most difficult routine yet. Zach had choreographed a routine that existed somewhere between a jive, jitterbug, and west-coast swing dance that was incredibly fast-paced and included several death-defying tricks in which Chris and Darren took turns swinging one another through the air, flipping each other back and forth between each other's legs, and even dipping one another only to catch the other person by the back of the neck at the last minute. It was exhausting work and both Chris and Darren were sweating profusely, breathing hard, and feeling bruised and sore from the tops of their heads to the tips of their toes from the crash landings and misplaced knees and elbows that went flying as they struggled to learn their new tricks. Even Darren, who was famously well-known by the entire Glee cast and crew for his unflagging, manic energy, never seeming to tire even after repeating the same complex routine for the tenth time in a single afternoon, was beat. Darren's attentions kept going back to Chris, who he'd been watching slowly decompensate as Chris was clearly feeling worse with each passing hour.

As the cheerful strumming of the ukeleles started anew, Darren brought himself back to his starting position, taking Chris's hands in his as they slowly began to move together in rhythm to the music. As the chorus swelled with Jason Mraz singing about not hesitating, Darren and Chris started the first of their several tricks. Chris hopped off the ground slightly, allowing his knees to bend and his legs to go limp as Darren used his tight grip on Chris's hands to rapidly slide Chris through his wide open stance, flinging Chris until his entire body glided smoothly under his legs, Chris landing with a hop behind Darren, facing away from him and coming to a stand as Darren released his grip on Chris's hands.

Darren was just starting to pivot so they could reverse the move, this time sending Darren flying between Chris's legs when he watched Chris wobble, unsteady on his feet and unable to gain traction on the slick wooden floor. As Darren watched in mute horror, Chris's eyes started to roll back into his head and he slumped to the floor, the sound of the back of Chris's skull hitting the unforgiving wooden floor below dully thudding an echo through the cavernous dance studio which was empty save Darren, Chris and Zach.

Darren was on his knees in a second, panic-stricken at the site before his eyes. His hand immediately went to Chris's cheek, stroking it as he called out Chris's name and waited for him to moan, blink, or otherwise acknowledge what had just happened. Instead, Darren received only silence in response and felt his heart drop at the feel of the searing heat of Chris's cheek, clearly indicating that Chris was spiking a fever. After holding his breath for several seconds and realizing that Chris wasn't going to immediately resume consciousness, Darren turned to Zach in a panic.

"Zach! Chris is unconscious. We need help." Darren commanded.

Zach knelt beside the pair, taking in Chris's flushed cheeks and unresponsive face.

"Darren, what happened? Did he hit his head? Did he just get a little wobbly and manage to fall over and somehow knock himself unconscious by hitting his head on the floor? Or did he just faint?"

Darren shook his head. "Zach, he's sick. I tried to tell him to go home earlier but he refused. Feel how warm he is. He's clearly running a fever. I think he fainted first and then hit his head when he fell. Oh god, Zach, what are we going to do? Will he be okay?"

Zach's eyes widened as he touched the back of his hand to Chris's burning temple. "Jesus," Zach muttered. "Why the hell didn't someone tell me he was this sick? Damn stubborn Chris!"

Zach looked up to see that Darren's eyes were wide and he looked perilously close to tears. "It's going to be okay, Darren. We just need to get him some help. Why don't we move him over to the couch and then I'll go track down the on-site medics and see if they think we need to bring him to the hospital, okay? Can you help me lift Darren onto the couch?" Zach asked.

Darren simply nodded, crouching into a squat before sliding a hand behind Chris's head and neck, supporting Chris's limp head in the crook of his elbow. Zach slid an arm underneath Chris's knees and together they smoothly lifted him into the air, quickly transporting him to the couch waiting at one end of the studio. Darren lowered himself onto the couch first, leaving Chris's head cradled in his arms. Zach gently rested Chris's lower limbs against the couch and stood, in a hurry to get Chris the medical attention he clearly needed.

"Darren? Take care of him, okay? I'll be right back."

Darren nodded vaguely at Zach, his eyes not leaving Chris's face for even a second as he held his breath, willing Chris to give him even the tiniest flicker of recognition or awareness. He felt tears welling in his eyes as he gently brushed back a sweat-dampened lock of Chris's hair from his eyes.

"Oh Chris," Darren whispered softly as he continued to stroke Chris's hair. "You promised me you'd take care of yourself and that you wouldn't do this to be again. Come on, honey. Open your eyes. You promised." A single tear made its way from Darren's eye and slowly tracked down his cheek, waiting to see if Chris would fulfill his promise. But Chris continued to remain unnaturally still and quiet, clearly underscoring the fact that at the moment, Chris had broken his promise to Darren. Hopefully not for good.

**End Chapter Note: Whew, that ended up being a lot longer than I'd originally planned! What are you thinking of the story so far? I know it is pretty angsty, but there will also be room for some CrissColfer hurt/comfort goodness and fluff to come as well. Like I said above, I'm very new to the RPF genre, so I welcome all of your feedback. If you managed to stick with me through the first chapter, please review so that I know what you thought of it. Thanks for reading :) Assuming people read and respond positively to this first chapter, I'll try to post the second very soon.**


	2. Trying to Get Back

**Disclaimer: This is RPF (real person fiction) primarily about Darren Criss and Chris Colfer. While they are both real, this story obviously isn't. It is a work of fiction. I don't own the Glee characters or the actors who play them but I sure wouldn't mind owning Darren Criss in real life!**

**In a weird case of life imitating art, Chris had this to say when interviewed on the red carpet earlier tonight:**

_**"My fifth time going straight from the Glee set to the hospital was recently, yes. And it was all my fault because I always try to everything full out, and I was exotic dancing on a table and injured my foot...as one does"**_** - Chris Colfer at 2011 Emmys**

**I feel bad for poor Chris for getting hurt so often, but the CrissColfer shipper in me wants to believe that Darren was the one to drive him to the hospital. Okay, back to the story. Now where were we?**

"_**Oh Chris," Darren whispered softly as he continued to stroke Chris's hair. "You promised me you'd take care of yourself and that you wouldn't do this to be again. Come on, honey. Open your eyes. You promised." A single tear made its way from Darren's eye and slowly tracked down his cheek, waiting to see if Chris would fulfill his promise. But Chris continued to remain unnaturally still and quiet, clearly underscoring the fact that at the moment, Chris had broken his promise to Darren. Hopefully not for good.**_

As Chris lay unconscious in Darren's arms, Darren's hand continued to lightly trace patterns through Chris's hair, fingers whisper light as they glided over his temple back to the crown of his head. Brush, stroke, repeat. Again and again he followed this path, the repetitive motion soothing and trance-like. Darren's eyes never left Chris's face, however, still hoping that at any moment Chris's eyes would fly open and tell Darren that it was all one big joke.

Darren had often teased Chris about his inability to turn his thoughts off, even in sleep. Darren slept with wild abandon, his body strewn about the bed haphazardly, his hair rumpled, and his face open and child-like in sleep, In contrast, Chris's face never quite lost that thoughtfulness, that unique "Chris-ness" that only hinted at the depths and volumes of thought going on beneath the surface even as he slept. Darren remembered watching Chris fall asleep for the first time, having expected to see him relax into that completely absent look of a deep, dreamless sleep. Instead, Darren was shocked and amused to see that even in sleep, Chris furrowed his brow, looking as if he was concentrating intently on something unseen and just out of reach. He was rarely still in his sleep either, frequently shifting and mumbling incoherent nothings. Even his sleep-talking sounded insistent, his mumblings taking on the tenor of passionate convictions.

But now... Now Chris's face only showed blankness, without a hint of his personality showing through his face. The only signs of life came from the flushed hue of his skin which hinted at the fever raging through Chris's body. Darren had been worried about Chris many times before. He'd felt his stomach sink to the floor upon seeing Chris nearly collapse backstage after Glee Live only a month earlier. He'd felt the mixture of hot guilt and relief in equal measure when Chris made the difficult decision to break up with his boyfriend just before the Glee Live tour started. Chris had known that he didn't love his boyfriend Jaime enough to make the long-distance thing work, and he knew it wasn't fair to ask Jaime to wait for him when he knew that they had no long-term future together, Darren had been relieved to discover. But these previous worries and jumble of emotions paled in comparison to the overwhelming fear and anxiety that had taken hold of Darren since Kurt had collapsed to the ground and left no sign of his personality to his body, but only this vast, disconcerting blankness.

Darren was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of soft moan, so quiet as to be barely imperceptible at first. Darren's eyes were on Chris in an instant, his voice calling out and pleading with Chris to give any response.

"Chris? Hey honey, can you hear me? Come on, Chris. I need you to open your eyes, okay? Can you do that for me? Talk to me, Chris. Please." Darren called softly, cupping Chris's cheek and stroking it gently as he did so.

Chris let out a slightly louder groan, his brow tightening briefly in a grimace of pain. He stilled for several seconds, causing Darren to hold his breath. Slowly, he shifted his body gingerly before a shaking hand was lifted up towards his own forehead.

"Mmhmm, head," Chris mumbled painfully.

"Shh, I know, babe. Come on, Chris, I still need you to look at me, okay? Open your eyes," Darren commanded while placing his hand over Chris's, which was still resting gingerly against his right temple.

Chris groaned and drew in a wheezy breath before slowly opening his eyes and blinking confusedly in the overhead light. He looked at Darren for a several seconds before seeming to actually register who he was and then allowed his eyes to trail around the room, attempting to find the context for which he was currently lying on a couch in an empty dance studio cradled in Darren's arms.

"Darren?" asked Chris shakily, a slight edge of panic to his voice. He allowed his eyes to quickly scan the room and drew in a sharp breath, attempting to lift his head off of Darren's lap.

"Shh, easy Chris. Just take it easy. Don't try to get up, okay? I need you to lay still and just listen for a minute. Everything's going to be okay," Darren said soothingly, gently pressing a hand to Chris's shoulder in order to direct him back to his lap while keeping a restraining arm across Chris's chest and torso.

Chris's blue eyes were wide and watery and Darren felt as if he could see directly into Chris's soul to visualize the fear, panic, and pain reflected there. He instinctively knew what Chris was thinking and began to answer the questions that Chris hadn't asked, but desperately wanted the answers to.

"Chris, you passed out while we were rehearsing the choreography for our duet. You hit your head when you fainted and you've been unconscious for a few minutes. You are burning up and I think you are running a fever too. Zach went to get some help so that we can figure out what's wrong with you, okay? You just need to lie still and relax until we can get a medic or doctor to check you out, alright?"

Chris's eyes widened further as he took in Darren's recap of the events of the last few minutes. He hated the worried look in Darren's eyes. His head, throat, and chest were throbbing, and he felt dizzy and nauseous. But he couldn't let Darren know how he was feeling or he'd surely be roped into an ER visit. No, right now all Chris really needed was a few Advil and a good night's sleep, and he was sure he'd be fine again. Chris needed to be convincing though. He focused all of his efforts on trying to sit up smoothly without shaking or letting the dizziness overwhelm him, while also trying not to visibly wince at the pain in his head, throat, and chest.

Without warning, Darren watched as Chris suddenly tried to sit up again, his face tightening as he struggled not to let the pain of moving show in his expression. But his paleness gave him away, as did the slight tremor in his hands and arms as he struggled to push off from the couch.

Darren's hands were on Chris in a minute, holding him more firmly in his arms this time. Darren removed his restraining arm from Chris's chest and brought it to his forehead, stroking it gently while simultaneously holding Chris's head flush against his lap so that he was forced to lay back. "Chris, stop. I mean it. You've got to lie still. You're sick and hurt and I don't want you passing out again, okay?"

Chris moaned slightly in a mixture of pain and frustration. "Darren, I'm okay. Just need some sleep. Can't you just take me home?"

Darren shook his head vigorously, wondering for the hundredth time that day why Chris had to be so damn stubborn. "Chris please..." Darren started, trying a different tact, his voice softening just enough to let a hint of his worry come through. "You are in really bad shape. Last time this happened, you promised me that you would take better care of yourself and let me help you when you needed it. Remember that, Chris?"

Darren's voice rose in volume and intensity as he remembered the pervasive hopelessness he'd felt at watching Chris become violently ill while still refusing to follow doctor's orders, instead stubbornly insisting on performing, leading to his near collapse back stage. " Just...god dammit, Chris! You're sick and you still insist on working a 15 hour day and now look at you. You're feverish and sick and probably just added a concussion to your list of problems," Darren finished intensely, breathing hard, his eyes dark with barely suppressed frustration and something closely resembling a growing rage, not directed at Chris, but rather directed at the unfairness of the universe and the damned circumstances that kept bringing the two of them back to this all-to-familiar scenario.

Something in Darren's expression and the passionate rage with which he asserted his frustration broke Chris just a bit. Chris knew Darren was his best friend and cared deeply about him, but when he got worked up like this...well, it was confusing to Chris, as it felt very much like a fight Chris should be having with a lover, not a friend. Darren and Chris's relationship had always defied labels, much to the chagrin of the media that was eager to make something of the fact that Darren was straight while Chris was gay. On more than one occasion, Darren had lamented the fact that his publicist had all but forced him to "come out" as straight in order to quell the media speculation and return the focus back to the work Darren was doing on Glee playing gay teen Blaine rather than having the spotlight focus solely on his relationship with Chris and the "will-they-or-won't-they" romance angle supposedly hinted at in their personal lives.

"Okay, okay..." said Chris meekly, his voice full of exhaustion as he finally allowed the pain of his injuries to show through on his face. "I'm not moving anymore. Now what?"

Darren sighed deeply, upset with himself for losing it on Chris in that way when Chris was so obviously scared and in pain. He looked down at Chris's tensed face and answered resignedly. "Now we wait, I guess. Can you tell me where you are hurting? What feels bad?"

Chris's eyes fluttered closed momentarily as he winced in pain. "My head hurts...a lot. Other than that, just cold symptoms, I think. Sore throat, coughing, that kind of thing."

Darren nodded. "Yeah, it sounded like you hit your head pretty hard when you fainted. Can you show me where it is hurting? You probably have a big bump."

Chris winced again, his eyes closing involuntarily against the pain. Slowly, he turned his head to the left, facing away from Darren so that the back of his head was to him, bringing a hand up to poke at the tender flesh near the base of his skull. He sucked in a breath as his fingers grazed the sensitive area.

"Okay, let me take a look," Darren said, his hand gently following the path of Chris's own hand until his fingers traced a large, swollen lump at the back of Chris's head. "Ouch," said Darren sympathetically. "That looks painful. You've got a huge knot." Darren was about to remove his hand from Chris's head when he felt a slightly dampness. He quickly withdrew his hand and was shocked to see that it was smeared in blood. His hands were back on Chris's skull in an instant, prodding until they found what they were seeking. Just to the right of the hard knot sat an area that was oozing blood, Chris's hair starting to become matted and stuck to the wound as it mixed with his partially congealed blood. Darren withdrew his hand from the wound for a second time and was alarmed by the volume of blood that had leaked out over the course of such a short point of contact.

"Shit, shit, shit..." muttered Darren worriedly as he glanced down to the knee of his pants on which Chris's head hand been resting, discovering a spreading blood stain. He looked around the room frantically for something with which he could stem the blood flow, his eyes alighting on a small hand towel draped over a nearby chair. Chris spoke as Darren reached for the towel.

"Darren? What is it?" Chris asked worriedly, turning his head back towards Darren and watching as Darren's face went from calm and composed to panicked and horror-stricken in a matter of seconds.

"Huh? Uhh, it's okay, Chris. I just realized that your head is bleeding from where you hit it. It's bleeding a lot, but head wounds tend to do that, apparently." Darren rambled on, trying not to let the full force of his panic be obvious to Chris. "I just need to put pressure on your head to get the bleeding under control, okay? Can you turn your head again so I can get a better look at the cut?"

Chris turned his head wordlessly, allowing a single tear to spill onto his cheek as the pain swelled while Darren began poking at the sensitive flesh again.

Darren sucked in a wincing breath as he felt Chris shrink away slightly from his touch. "Shh, I know, Chris. I know it hurts. I just need to get the bleeding to slow down a bit." Darren pressed the clean white towel to Chris's wounded head, noticing a growing sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the crimson quickly spread across the absorbent fabric of the white terrycloth towel. "Sorry... sorry Chris," he muttered as he readjusted the towel to apply more pressure to the wound. "Almost done, just hang on, okay?"

Chris could only manage a small nod, not trusting his voice to keep from cracking in pain at the moment. He bit the inside of his cheek at the sensation of the burning sting of pain coming from his head wound that was currently competing for attention with the sharp throb of his temple and the vise-like squeeze of a building headache that was wrapped around his whole head and neck, complete with a requisite dizziness and growing nausea.

Darren finally nodded, satisfied with the positioning of the makeshift bandage. He kept his left hand protectively cupped around the base of Kurt's skull, pressing the towel firmly against Chris's wounded head. With his right hand, Darren reached up, placing his hand against Chris's chin and jaw and carefully turning Chris's head until he was looking up at Darren once more.

"Hey, all done. You doing okay?" asked Darren with growing concern, noticing the hot tear that had slid down Chris's cheek and gently wiping it away with the back of his hand.

Chris's eyes fluttered as he nodded. "Yeah, just...hurts." he managed weakly.

Darren nodded and brought his hand to Chris's forehead, testing his temperature with the inside of his wrist before resting the back of his hand against Chris's flushed cheek experimentally. Chris was burning with fever, but Darren noticed that he'd begun to shiver slightly, obviously adding chills to his list of symptoms. Darren looked into Chris's fever-bright eyes, thinking about what else he could do to ease Chris's misery. Just as Darren was pondering what he could do next to help, Chris let out a deep, hacking cough that seemed to last far too long for Darren's liking.

Chris wheezed as the tickle and burn in the back of his throat suddenly made itself known again, causing him to break into an involuntary coughing jag. He gasped and choked unexpectedly, his eyes drawing closed in pain as the hacking cough shook his body and made his head throb and the room spin as he struggled to draw in air and orient himself. He found himself struggling weakly to sit up despite Darren's restraining hand as lying flat on his back seemed to be only further aggravating his cough.

Darren's eyes narrowed as Chris's fit seemed to go on and on, wracking his body with hacking coughs. He could feel Chris weakly pushing against him, seemingly struggling to sit up. It finally registered to Darren that Chris was probably having trouble breathing and that lying flat on his back was likely to only aggravate his cough further. In seconds, Darren had removed the restraining hand from Chris's body and instead slid his free arm beneath his shoulders while his other hand continued to cradle his head and neck while keeping firm, steady pressure on his bleeding head wound.

"Okay, Chris. I'm going to help you a sit up a bit more. Just lean against me. Let me do all the work. Try to breathe normally, Chris. Take slow, deep breaths. That's it. Just breathe. It'll pass in a second." Darren soothed as he cradled Chris so that Chris's head lay against his shoulder. While his left hand continued to hold the now blood-soaked towel over Chris's head wound, Darren reached out with his right and snagged a nearby bottle of water. He sighed in relief as Chris's coughing finally started to slow in intensity until at last, he stopped altogether, leaving Chris weak, sweaty, and breathless.

"Jesus, Chris," Darren started worriedly. "You are sounding worse by the minute. Here, think you could drink some water? We don't want you getting dehydrated." Darren carefully unscrewed the lid on the bottled water, bringing the bottle to Chris's mouth and watching as Chris downed it gratefully in large, slightly desperate gulps, wincing as he swallowed. After several large gulps, Chris pulled away from the water and Darren closed the bottle, setting it down on the floor near their feet.

Chris sagged into Darren, feeling as if his own body could no longer support the weight of his head which throbbed in time to Chris's pulse, causing a slight roaring, rushing sensation in his ears. "Darren," Chris breathed miserably. "This...sucks."

"I know, Chris. I know it does but we're going to get you to a doctor soon so that he or she can help you feel better, okay? You're doing great. Just hang on for a few more minutes. Zach should be back with help soon.

Chris could only nod wearily, too spent from the pain and exhaustion to respond further. His eyes fluttered closed, and Chris balanced there on the precipice between consciousness and unconsciousness as he tried desperately to get away from the steady throb in his temple.

"Chris. Chris? Chris! Hey, come on honey. No sleeping okay? I need you to keep your eyes open. Just for a few more minutes. Come on, Chris. Stay with me, please." Darren coaxed and cajoled, his voice slowly increasing in volume and panic as Chris's eyes remained closed.

Chris groaned at the sound of his name being called by Darren. God, couldn't he get a moment of peace, he thought wryly. The pain in his head, throat, and chest kept calling out to him, each pain unique in its color, texture, and shape. Above the cacophony of pain stood the unbearable agony in Chris's head. It was a red, pointed, and razor sharp pain that made the simplest of movements feel like pure torture.

"Darren?" Chris moaned softly. "Hurts...bad. Make it stop. Just wanna sleep, okay?" he mumbled, his words starting to slur together in a haze of pain and fever.

"Shh Chris... I know it hurts, honey, but you can't sleep just yet. You hit your head and might have a concussion, so I really need you to stay awake until the medic gets here, okay?"

With almost inhuman effort, Chris managed to pry open his eyes, looking up to see Darren watching him carefully, an unreadable expression on his face. "Darren?" called Chris weakly. "Will you...can you come...I don't want to be alone," he tried to explain, his words coming out jumbled. He drew a sharp breath and started again. "Darren, don't wanna go to the hospital alone. Will you come with me? Please?"

Darren bent down to kiss Chris's forehead, relieved to see his eyes once more and feeling touched that Chris wanted, no needed him to accompany him in the ambulance to the ER. "Of course, honey. I'll be with you the whole time, okay?"

And with these words, Chris seemed satisfied and finally allowed the blackness to overtake him yet again, sinking further into Darren as he was allowed a temporary reprieve from the growing pain that had threatened to overtake him only minutes earlier.

**End Chapter Note: Ahh, sorry for the evil cliffhanger but I had to end this chapter somewhere and this seemed as a good a stopping point as any. I'm hoping that you are still enjoying this story. Please leave me a comment after you read and let me know what you are thinking so far. I greatly appreciate all constructive feedback. I've outlined the next 4-5 chapters, so don't worry, there is much more CrissColfer hurt/comfort goodness, angst, and fluff to come. If there is a particular character arc or plot point you'd like to see in an upcoming chapter, please let me know and I'll be happy to try to incorporate it into the story. I do have plans to introduce Lea Michele, Amber Riley, and Ashley Fink into an upcoming chapter, so that should be good fun! Please review :)**

**Also, if you are interested in reading more of my Klaine or CrissColfer works, I also post ficlets, drabbles, and other special features in addition the all the fics posted on on my blog. Follow me on Tumblr place-that-ive-been-dreaming-of (dot) tumblr (dot) com. Stop by and say hello.**


	3. What We Aim to Do

**Thanks to my lovely beta ****alexeidarling f****or always encouraging me to finish stories and catching the mistakes I'm too tired to see. Love you dear!**

**Chapter Count: 4,385 words **

**Disclaimer: This is RPF (real person fiction) primarily about Darren Criss and Chris Colfer. While they are both real, this story obviously isn't. It is a work of fiction. I don't own the Glee characters or the actors who play them but I sure wouldn't mind owning Darren Criss in real life!**

**Warnings: Character Injury, Discussion of Medical Procedures, Sexual Banter in Later Chapters, Mild Profanity**

**Spoiler Alert: Takes place in mid-July of 2011 as actors have just come back to set to begin filming Season 3 of Glee, Alludes to events that took place during Glee Live Tour during June 2011**

_**With almost inhuman effort, Chris managed to pry open his eyes, looking up to see Darren watching him carefully, an unreadable expression on his face. "Darren?" called Chris weakly. "Will you...can you come...I don't want to be alone," he tried to explain, his words coming out jumbled. He drew a sharp breath and started again. "Darren, don't wanna go to the hospital alone. Will you come with me? Please?"**___

_**Darren bent down to kiss Chris's forehead, relieved to see his eyes once more and feeling touched that Chris wanted, no needed him to accompany him in the ambulance to the ER. "Of course, honey. I'll be with you the whole time, okay?"**___

_**And with these words, Chris seemed satisfied and finally allowed the blackness to overtake him yet again, sinking further into Darren as he was allowed a temporary reprieve from the growing pain that had threatened to overtake him only minutes earlier.**_

"Chris? Chris! Fuck...come on, Chris. Eyes open," Darren begged, balancing on the precipice of hysteria at watching Chris black out for the second time in the past 15 minutes. But despite his pleas, Chris remained deadly still and silent.

Darren bit his lip in frustration and worry as he stared down at Chris' motionless form. Darren could feel the heat from Chris' body seeping through the thin twill material of his pants. His cheeks were flushed with fever. The crimson of his cheeks stood in sharp contrast to the dark purple, almost bruise-like circles under Chris' eyes, that spoke of many sleepless nights and a tendency to put work before attending to any of his physical needs. Chris' forehead was dotted with a clammy sweat. He looked awful, but still so beautiful to Darren.

Darren took a deep breath to calm his nerves and focused all his efforts on doing what little he could to make Chris more comfortable. He started by swiping a hand across Chris' brow, confirming that his fever was going nowhere but up. Darren needed to find a way to cool Chris off. He reached for another discarded hand towel, quickly wetting it with the water from a nearby water bottle. Darren brought the damp cloth to Chris' forehead, wiping away the sweat. Darren's eyes flickered back to Chris' face, hoping for a moan, a twitch, or some small sign of recognition, but his hopes were dashed as Chris remained still and silent. Feeling the heat still pouring off Chris in waves, Darren reached for the neck of Chris' Henley t-shirt, unbuttoning the top four buttons to expose Chris' neck and chest. He trailed the cool cloth from Chris' cheeks down to his neck and collarbone. Finally, Darren re-wet the cloth and settled it over Chris' forehead once more. Still no response from Chris.

"Chris, _please_," Darren pleaded, bringing his free hand up to cup his friend's cheek. But only silence echoed throughout the dance studio. Darren felt his stomach drop. With each minute that ticked away, Darren was more and more convinced that whatever was going on with Chris, health-wise, wasn't good.

Darren was startled by Zach re-entering the dance studio with two uniformed paramedics in tow. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief at the sight of some much needed help for Chris. Zach's eyes widened as he crossed the room to the couch were Chris was still cradled protectively against Darren's chest. "He's still unconscious?" he asked with surprise.

"Yeah...well, no. He woke up for a few minutes but he blacked out again. His head's bleeding," Darren continued, gesturing to the now saturated towel against the base of Chris' skull. "I think he's hurt worse than we thought. He was..." Darren trailed off, his voice breaking slightly. "He was in bad shape when he woke up."

"Shit...okay," Ryan responded worriedly, looking from Chris' pale and lifeless form to the tense look on Darren's face. "Good thing the medics are here. Let's let them work, I guess."

Darren nodded, running the back of his free hand against Chris' cheek and wincing at the heat he felt there. He was vaguely aware of movement as two paramedics knelt beside the couch and began pulling monitors and supplies from a large bag of equipment but his eyes were still glued to Chris' face, hoping against hope for some small sign of life from him. Darren bit his lip as he struggled to fight the rising tide of emotion threatening to overtake him at any moment. It's just that it was _Chris._His Chris.

The younger of the two paramedics began to speak, drawing Darren's focus back to the present. "Hi," she spoke tentatively. "I'm Jaime. Ryan said you were with Chris when he collapsed. Can you tell me what happened?" As she spoke, the second paramedic began a cursory exam, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Chris' upper arm and inflating it, frowning at the display slightly as he did so.

"Yeah...he...he wasn't feeling well earlier. He said he had a headache, sore throat, and a cough, but he still insisted on rehearsing. We'd been practicing for a few hours before he collapsed. I think he's running a fever. It seemed like he fainted first and then hit his head when he fell. But his head hit the ground really hard and it's bleeding and he seemed pretty out of it earlier. He sounded awful too. He was coughing so hard that he could barely breathe. I just...he..." Darren rambled, his voice trailing off slightly as he struggled to find the right words to express his level of concern.

Before Darren could finish his thought, the older paramedic interjected. "I need to take a look at that head wound. Could you move your hand for just a second?"

"Sure," Darren replied, shifting slightly on the couch while continuing to keep Chris cradled in his arms protectively. He relaxed his grip on the now saturated towel and slid his hand from beneath Chris' head, allowing the paramedic access to the wound.

Wordlessly, the paramedic leaned forward on his heels and carefully peeled back the small hand towel pressed to the young performer's head, exposing a deep and heavily bleeding gash. The head wound in itself was concerning, but combined with the fact that the patient was ill, obviously dehydrated, and hadn't regained consciousness, there was a growing need for alarm.

The paramedics worked quickly and efficiently as Chris was connected to a variety of monitors. Next, they wrapped a plastic collar around Chris' neck and slid him onto the gurney carefully, trying to jar his neck and his back as little as possible as they moved him. Darren had started to legitimately hyperventilate by this point until the young female paramedic had taken a moment to explain that the neck brace and back board were just precautions given that Chris was unconscious. She did her best to convince Darren that if Chris had been moving his arms and legs when he regained consciousness minutes earlier, it was highly unlikely that he had cervical or spinal injuries. Darren was still worked up as he paced back and forth across the dance studio while the paramedics inserted an IV line into Chris' hand and placed a mask over his face to administer oxygen. Finally after being reassured for a third time that his moving Chris to the couch was unlikely to have paralyzed him or to have caused lasting damage, Darren's breathing slowed to a more normal rate and he resumed his position at the head of Chris' gurney. He took hold of Chris' warm hand once more as he helped the paramedic steer the gurney through the emergency exit around the back and to the awaiting ambulance. As they stepped outside the cavernous studio and into the cool night air, Zach bid them goodbye, promising to update Ryan, Eric (this week's director), and the rest of the cast and crew on Chris' condition.

After what felt like hours had elapsed but in reality had been only minutes, the ambulance way on its way to for Cedar's Sinai Hospital. The lights and sirens blaring overhead did little to quell Darren's fears however, as every wail of the siren seemed to confirm what Darren had suspected since Chris had collapsed: Chris' condition was serious. While they'd been lucky enough to dodge a bullet in New Jersey when Chris had been struck down with nothing worse than food poisoning and dehydration, this time, it seemed, they wouldn't be as lucky.

Darren's phone vibrated in his pocket, startling him from his silent vigil at Chris' side. He slid it from his pocket with his left hand, while his right continued to trace patterns up and down Chris' forearm.

_**Ashley (8:21 pm):**____Lea, Amber, and I are on our way to the hospital. How's he doing? Zach said he passed out for a minute.._

_**Darren (8:22 pm):**____Yeah, he's still unconscious. It's not good... I'm freaking out._

_**Ashley (8:23 pm):**____What? Oh god, I thought he just fainted or something. What happened? How bad is it?_

_**Darren (8:25 pm):**____Not sure... He's sick. I tried to get him to go home after lunch, but you know Chris... He's running a pretty high fever and he hit his head when he passed out. The paramedics think he has a concussion. Ashley, if anything happens to him... If he's not okay... I don't know what I'll do._

_**Ashley (8:27 pm):**____Oh god... we'll be there soon. Just take care of him, DC, okay? He needs you, even if he pretends like he doesn't sometimes. If he wakes up, tell him that we love him._

Darren bit his lip, feeling tears prick his eyes as he tried to find the right words to respond to Ashley. Chris needed him? Darren couldn't help but feel as if Chris had _really_ needed him hours ago when he'd been sick and Darren hadn't managed to get him to stop working and go home and rest. Darren stared at his phone as a rising guilt washed over him. He'd let Chris down. He knew that Chris was stubborn and a bit of a workaholic. That was a given. But Darren also knew that they wouldn't be in this situation, with Chris unconscious and both of them on their way to the hospital if Darren had tried harder and hadn't given up so easily. He'd failed Chris.

Darren shook his head, trying to clear his increasingly morbid thoughts. No matter how terrified or frustrated he was, he needed to be calm and reassuring for Chris' sake. He'd let Chris down once already and he wouldn't do it again. While he hardly felt worthy or up to the task, Chris had specifically asked for him, had made it clear that he didn't want to be alone. And what had Ashley just said? "He needs you, DC." Darren took several deep breaths to steady himself, feeling his resolve grow with each inhalation.

Darren heard a soft moan and immediately his eyes were back on Chris, searching his face carefully for any signs of conscious awareness. His focus completely diverted to Chris, he let his iPhone slide carelessly on the bench seat beside him before bringing his left hand up to stroke at the hair plastered to Chris' temple by a thin sheen of clammy sweat.

"Chris?" Darren called tentatively. "Hey honey, can you hear me?"

His efforts were rewarded with a slightly louder noise, really more of a groan than a moan. Still Chris' eyes remained closed, but Darren could see the tension in his face as he struggled towards the surface.

Encouraged, Darren leaned over Chris, his face now just inches above his. "C'mon Chris...open your eyes. Please...oh Chris, please..."

Darren watched as Chris tried to turn his head slightly towards his voice, his motions stopped by the hard plastic collar supporting his neck. Chris let out a whimper and exhalation of breath, his eyes squeezing tighter shut in a grimace of pain.

Darren tried to sound more firm, more commanding as he coaxed Chris to respond. "Colfer! Come on, hon. You've got to open your eyes. Look at me," he ordered, his eyes still glued on Chris, watching carefully for further flickers of recognition. Chris continued to wince in pain, but Darren watched as his eyes moved beneath closed lids, seeming to search for something or someone as he hovered on the edge of consciousness. "Please Chris..." Darren spoke, more softly this time, his voice hoarse and breaking slightly as he called Chris' name.

His stomach clenched as he watched a flicker of recognition and was that...fear? dance across Chris' face. Darren's hand dropped from where it had been stroking through Chris' hair, reaching down to cup his cheek gently instead. "It's okay, Chris. You're okay. I'm here. Just...Chris please, can you open your eyes? Just for a second, alright? I just need to know that you're with me, honey. Everything's going to be okay."

And with those words of reassurance, Chris finally broke the surface, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights of the ambulance as Darren's face slowly swam into focus, tense, pale, and a bit...damp, but oh so comforting nonetheless. Darren was here.

Chris let out a gasp as his eyes blinked open, his breaths coming in short staccato beats of air as he struggled to piece together the context that led to his head feeling as if it was about to split in two, his throat being both on fire and drier than the Sahara desert, and Darren hovering above him looking near tears while he stroked his cheek. Darren's eyes considered him carefully with such a look of tenderness that it made Chris ache. It was like one of the looks that Blaine would give Kurt but slightly different and dialed up by a hundred in terms of intensity. A sudden bump jolted his whole body, causing the pain in his head and chest to flare unexpectedly. He gave a whimper of pain, his eyes blinking, his lids heavy from the effort it was taking for him just to remain conscious. As the pain ebbed slightly, Chris became aware that the dryness of his throat was being aggravated by a cold air blowing across his face. The smell invading his nostrils was acrid and like plastic. Chris crinkled his nose in disgust as he felt the cold plastic and elastic band of a mask settled against his face. What. The. Fuck?

Growing more alarmed by the minute at the circumstances that had led him to his current predicament, Chris flexed his hand in an attempt to jump start his circulation before reaching it upwards, intending to remove the mask from his face. His eyes widened in confusion and fear as his movements were halted by some sort of restraint holding his wrist and forearm firmly against the bed where he was lying. Instinctively, he attempted the same movement with the opposite hand, again feeling frustrated as his movements were prevented. Chris tried to lift his head and tilt it towards his hands to see what had him pinned against the bed but his movements were again prevented, this time by a hard plastic collar wrapped around his neck. Suddenly, Chris felt the hard plastic of the mask across his face and the collar around his neck squeezing tightly, leaving him breathless and panicked as he began to breathe heavily, desperate for air.

Darren watched, horrified, as Chris attempted to move his first his arms and then his head, eyes widening in panic as he realized he was restrained. Darren froze helplessly, suddenly unsure as Chris finally regained consciousness, his stomach knotting with anxiety at the naked fear in Chris' eyes. He swallowed hard as Chris' breath quickened, his breathing coming out in short, shallow breaths of air. _"Shit, he's hyperventilating,"_ Darren thought worriedly, suddenly springing into action at Chris' obvious need for reassurance.

Darren leaned forward until his face was mere inches from Chris. "Chris...Chris! Hey honey, look at me, okay?" Unconsciously, Darren's hand begin to stroke along Chris' temple, tucking a lock of hair behind Chris' ear as he spoke soothingly. "It's okay, Chris. You're okay. I'm here, hon. You're in the ambulance, okay? Do you remember what happened? Darren looked to the paramedic sitting on the other side of Chris' gurney who adjusted an IV drip before looking back to Darren gratefully. The paramedic glanced to Chris' monitor, confirming that his pulse rate was starting to drop to a more acceptable level as Darren calmed the patient, before nodding at the young man and encouraging him to continue.

Chris looked at Darren, his eyes wide and searching, his eyes and cheeks damp with tears of pain and fear. He swallowed hard before shaking his head almost imperceptibly. No, he didn't remember. And that was the thing that scared Chris most of all.

"Okay...shh, it's okay, Chris," Darren soothed automatically while he internally panicked. _"Chris didn't remember?"_ Darren asked himself. _"That isn't good, is it?"_ Another glance at the paramedic confirmed that whatever Darren was doing was working, that it was calming Chris in some small way. And so Darren continued on, feeling as if he was stumbling through the darkness, attempting to lead Chris with the smallest pinpoint of light despite the fact that he could barely see well enough to put one foot in front of the next without falling flat on his face. It was terrifying.

"Listen honey, you...you passed out during rehearsal, okay? You hit your head pretty hard when you passed out and you...you've been unconscious for a while. That's why we're going to the hospital. But everything's going to be fine, Chris. The doctors will help you. You just got to hang in there for a few minutes, alright? You're doing great."

Darren watched Chris carefully as he spoke, unsure of what he was saying. He felt like he was rambling...even more than usual. He was no good at this kind of stuff. And he was especially bad at it when the person he was trying to reassure was Chris. _His_ Chris. His coworker and best friend. Someone he'd developed embarrassingly strong and overly complicated feelings for in the past few months. Darren felt as if he was barely keeping things together himself on the surface. Underneath, he was a bundle of emotions. And his carefully constructed "professional" demeanor was cracking with each passing second. Chris had always been more than a coworker, more than a friend. What Chris was to Darren wasn't something that could be easily labeled or defined. But what Darren knew was this: He'd never wanted to take someone in his arms more than he wanted to hold Chris right now. Every wince, whimper, and tear from Chris felt like a knife to Darren's chest. He ached with the need to make Chris okay. But strangely, despite this need, Darren had never felt more helpless in his whole life.

"D-d-are?" Chris suddenly gasped, his eyes boring into Darren's, begging, pleading for help.

"Yeah honey?" Darren asked immediately. "What is it? What can I do?" he continued, desperate to answer the unspoken need in Chris' eyes.

"H-hurts..." Chris spoke unsteadily. "W-why can't I m-move? Oh god, Dare.."

"Shh Chris. I know...I know it hurts, sweetheart. Once we get you to the hospital, they can give you something for the pain, okay? And they've just got you strapped down so you don't fall off the gurney, yeah? I'll ask if they can unstrap you now." Darren continued to stroke Chris' hair reassuringly as he turned to the paramedic, giving him a pleading look that could have rivaled Chris' own.

The paramedic simply shook his head apologetically. "Look, he hit his head and lost consciousness. Protocol says that we have to protect his spinal cord until he's been given x-rays of his head and neck as well as a head CT. It's just a precaution, but it is one that we've got to observe in his case.

Darren watched as Chris' eyes widened in fear at the paramedic's hurried reply. Chris began to struggle harder to turn his head, his face tensing in pain as he fought against the hard plastic collar.

Darren sighed in frustration. "Look, I get that the neck one needs to stay on, but can't we at least undo his hands...or just one of them even? I'd be freaking out too if my whole body was strapped to a gurney. I think it will help him calm down."

The paramedic shook his head again firmly. "No, we have the hand restraints because a lot of patients with head injuries get confused. Sometimes they try to pull off the neck brace or the oxygen mask. I've even had a patient rip out her IV. Sorry, but it's a safety thing."

Chris looked to Darren as he began to shiver slightly, the flush of Chris' cheeks reminding Darren of his fever which appeared to be spiking again. "D-Darren, p-p-please," Chris moaned, his hand instinctively reaching for Darren's only to be held back by the restraints. Darren felt his stomach clench involuntarily at the pleading tone to Chris' voice when suddenly, inspiration spoke again.

"Look, what if we undid his hand and I'll hold it? I can make sure he doesn't try to pull out any of his tubes or anything. I just need...I want to be able to do something to help him. Please?" Darren begged of the paramedic, desperate to do anything to calm Chris down and ease his pain.

"Oh alright...we can give it a try, I guess." the paramedic allowed reluctantly. He reached down and released the velcro strap currently pinning Chris' arm against the gurney. Darren reached out and captured Chris' hand in his before slowly lifting it to eye level, allowing Chris to see their fingers laced together as Darren's thumb traced gentle circles along the inside of Chris' wrist.

Chris, honey? I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere. You're doing great. Everything's going to be fine, Chris. Just relax and try to breathe, okay?

Chris looked at Darren, then to their intertwined hands, then back to Darren's face again. After a long moment, he nodded, squeezing Darren's hand tightly as his breathing began to slow a bit.

Darren gave him a relieved smile in return, squeezing his hand in response, and brushing the back of his hand against Chris' cheek. "Good Chris, that's good. We're almost at the hospital, alright? Just hang on for a few more minutes."

Chris and Darren were both startled as the ambulance hit a bump, jolting the gurney slightly and causing Chris to let out a strangled cry of pain. Darren looked down to see Chris' eyes tightly closed, his face a mask of pain. _"Shit, shit, shit!"_ Darren screamed silently as he watched Chris struggle to draw a breath.

"Chris?" Darren called tentatively. His only response came from Chris' hand which suddenly crushed into Darren's with surprising force. "I know, Chris... I know it hurts, honey, but you got to stay with me, okay? Look at me, Chris...please?

With seemingly superhuman effort, Chris drew his eyes open, blinking up at Darren with tear-filled eyes. The throb at his temple and at the base of his skull was enormous and growing stronger by the moment. But what was really scaring him was the dull ache and heaviness in his chest. Every breath he drew felt like it was stretching his lungs to their limit and despite breathing rapidly, he felt like he was barely getting enough oxygen. A tickle in the back of his throat became a spasm and suddenly Chris was coughing until his throat burned, his chest was on fire, and he was breathless and gasping for air again.

Darren winced as Chris let out a deep, barking cough that seemed to linger for much too long. He felt helpless to carry Chris through his coughing jag, his only comfort being to continue to hold tightly to Chris' hand and stroke the sweat-dampened hair from his perspiring forehead.

The paramedic also frowned in concern. He turned a nozzle on the portable oxygen in order to further assist Chris' breathing before sliding the ear pieces of his stethoscope into his ears. He placed the other end of the stethoscope against Chris' chest and paused for several moments, listening carefully to Chris' coughing and wheezing.

Darren continued to stroke Chris' forehead gently as he came down from his coughing jag, breathing hard as he struggled to draw a normal breath. "Jesus Chris...you okay? You sound awful, sweetheart. Are you having trouble breathing?" Darren asked, growing more worried with each minute as he watched Chris decompensate before his very eyes.

"Yeah... 'm...'kay" Chris rasped out between gulps of air. "Just...tired...so tired...Dare. M-mh...chest...h-hurts though. I'm...s-sick?" Chris asked, his teeth starting to chatter.

"Yeah honey...you're sick. I'm pretty sure that's why you passed out. But that's okay...that's why we're taking you to the hospital. They're going to take good care of you," Darren soothed.

Chris fought against his exhaustion to open his eyes, looking directly at Darren. He tugged at Darren's hand until both of their hands were resting over his heart, their fingers tightly laced together. "D-d-Darren...will you...st-stay? I d-don't want you to...to leave, 'kay? Don't like...hospitals."

"Hey..." Darren replied hoarsely, squeezing Chris' hand tightly in his as he gazed down at him. "I meant what I said...I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm going to be with you the whole time, Chris. I'm right here, honey."

Chris allowed his eyelids to slide shut, blocking out his surroundings save for the feel of Darren's warm hand nestled against his and resting over his heart. He allowed himself to be lulled into a semi-conscious state by the gentle rhythm of Darren's hand brushing through his hair. For now, he was safe. He was home. As long as Darren was here, he would be okay. Whatever came next, they would face it as the always had: together.

**Hope you enjoyed the (long overdue) update. I promise that I won't make you wait so long next time. I should have the next update posted by January 2nd. I'd love for you to review and let me know what you think. Is there something you're dying to see in an upcoming chapter? Let me know... Nothing would please me more!**

**If you aren't already following me on Tumblr, what are you waiting for? I posted a preview of this chapter last night so there are benefits to following the story in both places. You can find me at place-that-ive-been-dreaming-of (dot) tumblr (dot) com**


	4. I'm Sure

**Chapter: ** 4 – I'm Sure (4,568 words)

**Warnings: **Character injury, discussion of medical procedures (but nothing too squicky), profanity, and eventually some sexual banter.

*As always, big thanks to my beta alexeidarling who cheers me along and catches all the mistakes I'm too tired to see. I couldn't do it without her!

**Author's Note: **Wow, have you ever had to wait a long time for an update on this fic! You are truly the readers that waited. Thank you so much for your unending patience and continuing interest in this story while I focused all my attention on completing my 78,000 plus word AU Klaine fic "The Dalton Prison Study." But now that it's done, this fic is on the top of the queue. I've already started working on Chapter 5 and my goal is to post an update by this time next week. Stick around after the chapter for some notes about where the story is going next. But now let's get back to the story, shall we. Lots of lots of angst ahead. Don't say I didn't warn you...

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><p><em><strong>Chris allowed his eyelids to slide shut, blocking out his surroundings save for the feel of Darren's warm hand nestled against his and resting over his heart. He allowed himself to be lulled into a semi-conscious state by the gentle rhythm of Darren's hand brushing through his hair. For now, he was safe. He was home. As long as Darren was here, he would be okay. Whatever came next, they would face it as the always had: together.<strong>_

Darren fought hard in the initial chaos of the emergency room to keep his promise and stay with Chris. For once, he was grateful for his celebrity status and did not hesitate to use it if doing so meant that the hospital staff would be more willing to bend the rules for him. Chris was more out of it than with it by this point, but had held on enough to continue to cling to Darren's hand, still reacting violently to any threatened separation. And it was probably that more than anything else that had finally worked in Darren's favor as the paramedic recounted how Darren had been able to keep Chris calm in the ambulance. So the doctors had reluctantly allowed him into the treatment room after admonishing him to stay out of the way so that they could treat Chris.

Darren tried not to look anywhere except Chris' face as two nurses quickly divested Chris of his clothing and covered him with a hospital gown and a sheet. But Darren couldn't help but notice a dark, already purpling bruise on Chris' shoulder and another along his ribs as the nurses pulled off his shirt, presumably from where Chris had fallen on the unforgiving wooden floor as he passed out earlier. More worrying were the deep, barking coughs that Chris was letting out on increasingly frequent basis. The cough in itself was bad enough, but it was made even worse by the way it seemed to be adding to Chris' overall misery and breathlessness. Darren watched helplessly as Chris struggled to catch his breath each time, tears streaming down his cheeks unchecked. And all Darren could really do at this point was to squeeze Chris's hand even tighter, brushing away the tears as the streamed down his cheeks, and whispering softly to him. "I know, Chris. I know. Just try to breathe. It's going to get better soon. Just hang on, okay?" Darren soothed over and over, his words a mantra that he wasn't even sure that Chris could really hear or understand.

All around Chris, a flurry of activity was taking place. The medical team worked quickly and efficiently, seeming to Darren as if they were doing a thousand things at once. A nurse slid down Chris' gown long enough to place several small round leads on his chest, quickly hooking them to a monitor on an IV pole and filling the room with the sound of Chris' heart beating, a reassuring sound despite the rapid staccato beat. Another nurse clipped a small plastic pulse oxygen monitor on Chris' free hand, the other still protectively wrapped in Darren's. At the head of the bed, a doctor shone a bright light into Chris' eyes, causing him to wince and shut his eyes tightly.

Next, the doctor moved down to Chris' chest, placing a stethoscope over the right side of his chest and then the left in turn, frowning slightly as he listened. He turned to a third nurse who was adjusting several clear bags of fluids of various sizes. "Lungs are wet. I can hear crackles in both, the left's a little worse than the right, I think. Can you call for a portable chest and c-spine X-ray?"

The nurse nodded and picked up a phone receiver that was anchored on one wall, muttering instructions into it, her voice too soft for Darren to make out what she was saying over the hum of activity in the room. Darren's mind was still reeling. He could tell from the serious tone in the doctor's voice that whatever was going on health-wise with Chris wasn't good, but his words might as well be gibberish, so indecipherable were they to Darren. The nameless dread that had been building in the pit of Darren's stomach since he'd arrived on set that morning to see a pale, quiet Chris instead of the rosy-cheeked, talkative friend he knew and loved suddenly increased threefold, threatening to choke Darren with the sheer magnitude of it all.

A soft moan drew Darren's eyes away from the nurse and back to Chris where he immediately located the source of Chris' cries. The doctor had slid his gloved hand under Chris' head and was prodding the wound at the base of his skull. Chris' moans quickly built to whimpers, his breathing becoming even more shallow and rapid with each passing moment. Darren bit his lip and tried to focus on his own breathing as he watched the doctor remove piece after piece of blood-soaked gauze, Chris' wound clearly still bleeding heavily. Chris' eyes were still shut tightly, but as Darren watched, helpless tears leaked onto Chris' cheeks in a steady stream.

Darren leaned forward, his face hovering mere inches above Chris' as he wiped away the tears and began whispering what he hoped were soothing words. "Shh, Chris...it's okay. I'm right here. I know it hurts. Just squeeze my hand, alright? It's going to get better soon, honey...I promise. Just hang on, Chris."

Chris shuddered, his body shaking slightly with the force of his sobs of pain. His hand crushed into Darren's as he tried to turn towards the familiar, comforting voice, wanting to see the warm honeyed hazel eyes that he could feel gazing down at him. Chris let out a muffled cry of panic as his movement was prevented, halted by the cervical collar still protecting his neck. But Darren seemed to anticipate the source of Chris' panic, leaning forward until his face was directly above Chris' own. He stroked Chris' cheek and slowly Chris' breathing slowed and he opened his eyes.

"Hey...shh" Darren soothed, gazing sadly down at Chris.

Chris looked up at Darren, swallowing hard. "Darren..." was all he managed, his voice breaking slightly as he winced in obvious pain.

Darren sighed heavily. "I know...I know..." he whispered, his hands stroking across Chris' cheek, temple, and hair, trying to soothe him in any small way that he could. He brushed at a tear sliding down Chris' hot cheek. Finally, he asked helplessly "What can I do?"

"Just...just _stay_," Chris whispered, his hand tightening around Darren's instinctively.

"I will... I'm not going anywhere, Chris. I'm right here."

Chris looked up at Darren for a long moment, biting his lip as he seemingly thought something over. "Okay," he said eventually, nodding slightly, before allowing his eyes to slip closed once more, still tightly gripping Darren's hand.

"Okay," Darren whispered back, settling back onto the stool at Chris' bedside and stroking Chris' hair, trying to hold himself together a little longer. For Chris.

They were only allowed a few moments of quiet before harsh reality intruded yet again.

"Okay guys, we need to take Chris down for a CT Scan to make sure his head injury isn't worse than it looks," the ER doctor spoke hurriedly. "It should take about ten to fifteen minutes. You can wait for him here. Once it's done and the pictures are up, I should be able to give you a better sense of what we're dealing with, alright?"

Chris' eyes flew open at that, panic burning bright in his eyes at the thought of being separated from the one thing holding him together. "Darren, no..." he murmured.

"It's okay, Chris," Darren replied automatically. "Can't I go with him?" Darren asked, turning to the doctor. "He needs...he'll be calmer if I do," he tried to explain.

"Sorry, no..." the doctor replied. "But we're going to sedate him for the procedure so he's still and we can get clear pictures. By the time he wakes up, he'll be back here."

On cue, a nurse stepped to Chris' bedside carrying a syringe. She quickly uncapped it, emptying the contents into his IV port. "All done," she spoke with a sympathetic smile. "He'll be out in no time."

Darren stared down at Chris, his heart thudding at the look of panic in Chris' eyes. "It's okay, Chris. You're just gonna take a little nap while I wait, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Chris started to protest, mumbling, "Darren, please." But quickly, the sedatives began to take hold as promised, Chris' face went slack, and suddenly even blinking became a chore.

"I'll be right here when you get back, okay Chris?" Darren promised. "Just close your eyes and try to rest for a few minutes. Everything's going to be okay."

Chris stared up at Darren, blinking heavily, his hand still clutched tightly around Darren's. Gradually, his grip loosened as the sedative took effect and his eyelids became too heavy to keep open. Darren sighed, bending down to place a gentle kiss on Chris' forehead. "See you soon, Chris," he whispered, before nodding, signaling the orderly that he could take Chris down the hall for his CT scan.

As Chris's gurney disappeared down the hallway, Darren stood, staring at the floor, his hands balled into fists, breathing heavily. It was the first time he'd been alone since Chris had collapsed, and he was unprepared for the onslaught of emotions that poured over him without the distraction of Chris' immediate needs and comfort to focus on.

A sudden jolt from his pocket brought him crashing back to reality. He slid his phone out of his pocket, reading a text message, this time from Diana.

_**Dianna (9:18 pm): **Darren, I just got to the hospital. We're all out here waiting. What's going on? How's Chris doing?_

Darren stared at the text message, trying to find the right words to express his myriad of concerns without totally terrifying Dianna and the rest of the cast. Darren glanced at the clock. The nurse had indicated that the CT scan would take 10-15 minutes. If he hurried, he could update everyone and be back well before Chris returned.

* * *

><p>"Oh my god, Darren!" Lea exclaimed as Darren pushed through the doors into the small, private waiting room where many of Chris' Glee cast members were keeping vigil.<p>

"Hey guys," Darren responded wearily. He allowed himself to be pulled into a tight hug by Dianna, sighing a little as he sank into her arms. Dianna squeezed tighter, rubbing Darren's back gently before pulling back to look at him, her eyes filled with concern that was only intensified by the dark look in Darren's eyes.

Her eyes widened in shock as she glanced down at Darren's body, gasping at the dark copper that stained his jeans and shirt. "Oh my god, is that Chris' blood?" she asked, horrified.

Darren looked down as if in daze, suddenly remembering the blood that had seeped from Chris' head onto his pants earlier. "Yeah, uh...it...is," he finished lamely, swaying a little on his feet.

Ashley seemed to sense his unsteadiness. "Here, Darren. Come sit down and then you can fill us all in on how Chris is doing, okay?

Darren nodded wordlessly, allowing himself to be led to a nearby chair. He sat there for several seconds, lost in his own thoughts before Amber gently prompted him to begin, saying "So Darren, where's Chris? How's he doing?"

Darren ran a hand over his face, realizing just how difficult this conversation was going to be. "He's getting a CT scan right now. He...he's in pretty bad shape, honestly, but the doctors think he'll be okay."

Ashley, Lea, Dianna, and Amber exchanged horrified glances. "My poor baby," Ashley murmured, tears starting to fill her eyes. "So what happened exactly? All Zach told us was that he collapsed during rehearsal and needed to go to the hospital. Why does he need a CT scan? What's wrong with him?"

"They're still running tests, but the doctors think he's got a bad concussion and pneumonia," Darren answered bluntly. "He was...he was obviously sick when he came in this morning, but you know how Chris is. He kept insisting he was fine and that he wasn't going to go home early. But I knew he was feeling pretty awful when he skipped lunch to sleep in our trailer instead. We had this brutal dance rehearsal for a the Jason Mraz number we're doing in the next episode, and of course Chris was determined not to miss practice. We must have been rehearsing for three hours and I guess he was running a pretty high fever and he just blacked out. I tried to catch him when he went down, but I wasn't fast enough and he cracked the back of his head on the floor really hard. And that's it basically. He was out for almost ten minutes after he first collapsed and he's been kind of in and out of it ever since. The doctor is positive that he's got a concussion, but they're doing a CT scan just to be sure that he doesn't have a skull fracture or bleeding in his brain. And the doctor said he's sick and running the fever because he has pneumonia, although they still don't know what kind it is or how he got so sick so fast."

Darren continued to stare at the ground where he'd been studying his shoes, finding it easier to talk without staring into the worried eyes of Chris' friends. The truth was painful enough without that added reminder.

After a moment of stunned silence, Lea was the first to speak. "Oh my god," she sighed. "We had no idea it was that bad. But he's going to be okay..."

"Yeah, I think so," Darren replied unsteadily. "At least that's what the doctors are saying..."

"No," Lea corrected, putting a hand on Darren's shoulder. "Darren, look at me," she commanded, waiting patiently until Darren finally drew his eyes from the ground and met her gaze.

"Chris is going to be okay. I know he will be. He's tough."

Darren stared back, wanting desperately to believe Lea, but still unable to silence the doubts that kept crowding his mind. He chewed nervously at the inside of his cheek and nodded minutely, still obviously unsure.

"He will, Darren. And none of this is your fault, okay?" Lea reassured, seeing the doubt in Darren's eyes.

Darren crumpled at those words, finally allowing the dam that had been holding back the onslaught of emotions to break. Lea seemed to anticipate this response and simply leaned forward, taking Darren's heaving body into her arms. "Shh Darren...it's okay. It's not your fault. Chris is going to be fine."

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><p>Fifteen minutes later, Chris was returned to his room, still snoring slightly. As promised, Darren was immediately at his side, his eyes still slightly tear-swollen but otherwise no worse for the wear. Darren's body was flooded with relief to see that Chris was no longer restrained to the bed, the hard plastic cervical collar and backboard now gone. Darren did not hesitate before taking Chris' hand in his once more, immediately calming down now that he could watch over Chris with his own eyes.<p>

A nurse smiled down at both of them. "He did great with the scan. The doctor's looking at the images now so he should be in to talk to you pretty soon about the results. He just needs to sleep off the sedative for now. Call us if he needs anything."

"I will, thanks," Darren replied gratefully.

Darren settled in at Chris' bedside, bringing his free hand to Chris' temple as he began to stroke his hair soothingly. They stayed that way in comfortable silence for nearly half an hour, with Darren listening to the reassuring beep of Chris' heart monitor and the inhale and exhale of each breath.

Suddenly, a hoarse, barking cough broke through the silence of the hospital room. Darren winced at the harsh sound, his eyes immediately flying to Chris' face in anticipation. Luckily, the coughing jag did not last long this time. Nevertheless, it was enough to wake Chris from his sleep.

"Mmmhmm," Chris moaned, turning towards Darren.

"Hey Chris," Darren spoke, giving him a worried smile. "How're you feeling?"

"C-cold," Chris responded, shivering slightly as he blinked up at Darren.

Darren frowned, bringing his free hand to Chris' forehead, sweeping Chris' bangs from his temple and ghosting over Chris' warm skin. "You're still really warm to me, but maybe your fever's starting to go down?"

"M-maybe," Chris shuddered, his eyes glassy and listless. "How long have I been asleep?

"About 45 minutes? You got back from the scan about 30 minutes ago."

"Ugh...I feel like shit," Chris moaned. "What's wrong with me, Darren?"

Darren sighed. "I can tell you what we know so far, but the doctors are still running tests."

"Okay," Chris sighed, looking up at Darren with wide eyes.

"I don't want to scare you," Darren murmured, trying to find the right words.

"Am I dying?" Chris asked flatly.

"What? No, of course not. God no...you're going to be fine, Chris, I just –," Darren rambled.

"Then you aren't going to scare me," Chris interrupted, just as directly. "Now out with it, before I crash again."

"Okay," Darren breathed, a relieved smile playing around the corners of his mouth at the return of a little good old fashioned Chris snark. It was a relief to hear him sound like _Chris_ again, even if the topic was fairly morbid.

"So you've got a concussion," Darren started nervously. "They just did a scan to make sure it wasn't something more serious, but they're pretty sure you've got a pretty bad concussion from hitting your head when you passed out."

Chris nodded, seeming unsurprised. "I figured as much... Not my first time at the rodeo," he muttered, almost to himself.

"You've had a concussion before?" Darren asked, honestly surprised.

"Two actually. Dodge ball... My head was used for target practice quite a bit in middle school," he sighed wearily.

Darren looked at Chris, horrified. Chris looked as if he wanted to say more, but before he could get a word out, he broke into another coughing fit, this one more violent than the last.

"Easy...easy Chris," Darren soothed, rubbing Chris' arm as he talked him through the coughing fit. "Just try to breathe...it'll pass in a second." He continued to look on helplessly as coughs racked Chris' body and tears streamed down his cheeks. "Chris? Should I call the nurse?" Darren finally asked worriedly.

Chris shook his head, taking in a gasp of air as his breathing slowly started to even out. Darren caressed his cheek, wiping away tears and waiting. "Anything I can do?" he asked once Chris seemed to be breathing at a more normal rate.

"Water?" Chris croaked.

"Of course," Darren replied instantly, already mentally chastising himself for having not thought of it sooner. He quickly filled a Styrofoam cup from the pink plastic pitcher perched atop a cart of medical supplies, swiping a straw and plunking it into the cup.

"Here," Darren spoke, bringing the cup to Chris. Chris shifted, wincing obviously as he attempted to lift his head and reach for the cup simultaneously.

"No, no, no..." Darren answered, shaking his head as he laid a restraining arm across Chris' chest. "Let me." He brought the cup to Chris' mouth, sliding the straw between Chris' slightly parted lips and waiting patiently while Chris slowly sipped water, pausing between sips to gulp air, still slightly breathless from his last coughing fit. Finally, he nodded at Darren, who slowly removed the cup and placed it on nearby table. "Better?" he asked gently, watching with concern as Chris sank back against the pillows, looking thoroughly exhausted.

"Yeah," Chris mumbled, his eyes sliding shut for a short while. "Just tired...my head hurts...a lot. And my chest."

"I know, honey," Darren replied tenderly. "It's gonna get better though. You should try to rest if you can."

Chris was quiet for a moment, causing Darren to wonder if he'd fallen asleep again. But after a minute or two, Chris blinked up at Darren. "You never finished telling me what's wrong with me," he admonished. "There's more, right?"

"Yeah.." Darren responded, a bit taken aback. "But we can talk later... You should rest, Chris."

"Darren? What aren't you telling me? Out with it," Chris commanded wearily.

"No big secret..." Darren started reluctantly. "You're sick. Apparently you have pneumonia."

"Really?" Chris asked, frowning and obviously surprised. "I haven't even been sick that long..." he muttered more to himself than to Darren.

"I know, right?" said Darren. "That was my first thought too. But let's be honest, Chris. You've never been very good at taking care of yourself. You work too hard. You're run down. And that was bound to take its toll eventually."

Chris looked at Darren for a moment, seeming to consider something before finally nodding his reluctant agreement. "I know, I just... It snuck up on me. I really didn't think I was that sick... You know how I am..."

Darren sighed, rolling his eyes a little. But as he gazed at Chris, taking in the bandage covering his head, the oxygen prongs in his nose, and the variety of monitors and tubes attached to Chris' every limb, Darren grew serious once again, the full weight of the situation bearing down on him until it was hard to breathe. "Yeah, I do know how you are...which is why I was so worried earlier when I had to practically peel you off the couch in your trailer. You shouldn't have been rehearsing in that state. And I didn't stop you.."

Chris frowned at that, looking concerned and more than a little frustrated. "Seriously, Darren? You tried. You told me to go home. I didn't listen because I'm stubborn. I'm failing to see how any of this," Chris continued, gesturing to his injured state, wincing slightly as he lifted his arm, "is your fault."

Darren shook his head fervently, getting more worked up by the moment. "I know I tried, but I also know you. We've been through this before. I'm not an idiot. I should've gone to Zach or Ryan and told them to send you home."

Chris opened his mouth, intending to protest, but whatever he wanted to convey was quickly taken over by another violent coughing fit, this one seeming to leave Chris more drained and breathless than the last, tears streaming down his cheeks involuntarily as he struggled to regain control.

"Oh shit, Chris. I'm sorry, honey. I shouldn't be making you talk. Shh, it's okay. Breathe. Just breathe, Chris, It'll pass in a second," Darren soothed, rubbing Chris' arm sympathetically. Finally, the coughing jag started to slow. Darren coaxed Chris into taking a few more sips of water, before helping Chris settle back against the pillows, quiet but utterly drained.

"Sorry, Chris. That was my fault," Darren spoke guiltily, stroking Chris' cheek as he eyes started to droop against his will. "We don't need to talk about this right now. You need to rest, okay? Just close your eyes."

Chris nodded sleepily, his eyelids sliding down to half mast. "Raincheck?" he rasped.

"Sure," Darren agreed, carding his fingers through Chris' hair. Chris shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable. He let out a low moan as a minute change in position caused his head to throb in earnest.

"I know, Chris... Shh...just try to relax. Everything's going to be okay. Just sleep."

Chris settled for nodding, too drained to reply verbally. He winced at the sudden jolt of pain to his head, automatically reaching out for Darren's hand, needing Darren's touch to ground him through the pain.

Darren took Chris' hand gratefully, lacing his fingers with Chris' own and settling in at his' bedside. "I'm right here, Chris. Close your eyes. I'll be here when you wake up."

Chris blinked rapidly, forcing his eyes back open as a sudden thought occurred to him. "I guess I'm not going home tonight, huh? I have to stay here?"

"Yeah Chris...you're going to be here for awhile. At least a few days...but probably closer to a week," Darren replied. "The nurse said they were going to move you up to a room soon. You'll be in the ICU tonight so they can monitor you closely and make sure your head injury doesn't get any worse."

"Shit," Chris murmured under his breath, obviously upset at this new revelation. "Darren, are you sure I have to? Can't I just go home? I'll stay in bed."

Darren scrubbed a hand over his face, frustrated. Chris was like a broken record with the insisting he was fine when he clearly wasn't. Chris really didn't get it yet. And Darren, who had held Chris' broken, bleeding, and unconscious body in his lap hours earlier got it all too well. But for now, Darren just wanted Chris to rest. There would be plenty of time for lectures later.

"Chris, look at me. You have pneumonia and a bad concussion. You can barely talk. You're in pain. You're not going anywhere. You're going to do everything the doctors tell you to do and more importantly, you are going to slow down and learn how to take better care of yourself. We don't have to talk now, but we do have to deal with this at some point. But please, for now, will you just close your eyes and go to sleep? For me?"

Chris bit his lip, seeing the raw pain and anxiety in Darren's pleading eyes. "I will under one condition."

"Anything," Darren replied reflexively.

"Will you stay? I don't like hospitals and you make them feel less scary. Less hospital-y," Chris spit out in a rush, blushing a little at the thought of how desperately he needed Darren to stay.

"Of course I'm staying. I told you, Chris. I'm not going anywhere. You'll have to kick me out if you want to get rid of me. Otherwise, I'm all yours," Darren finished instantly, without a second's hesitation or trace of doubt.

"Are you sure?" Chris asked, still irrationally anxious at the thought of doing this without Darren at his side.

"I'm sure, honey. Now go to sleep before I call the nurse in to sedate you into oblivion again," Darren whispered fondly, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on Chris' forehead.

"Mmhmm, those were the good drugs," were the last words Chris murmured before sleep overtook him, the sound of Darren's soft chuckle echoing through his dreams.

* * *

><p><strong>End Chapter Note: <strong>Whew, I wasn't kidding about the angst, was I? But the good news is that there isa lot more CrissColfer h/c and fluff coming up, plus some progression to their relationship. Right now, there's nothing "official" between Chris or Darren but there are definitely some feelings there that haven't been addressed. My take is that an emergency situation like this one is just the catalyst for bringing those feelings that were already there to the surface. I'm predicting another 4-5 chapters to wrap up this fic and plan to have Chaper 5 up by next Wednesday, June 6th. If you enjoyed this chapter and are excited to have the fic back after the long hiatus, I'd love to hear from you. Please review or send me a PM and tell me what you think so far. Nothing would make me happier. And if you aren't already following me on Tumblr (place-that-ive-been-dreaming-of (dot) tumblr (dot) com), what are you waiting for? I liveblog my fic writing regularly and post special features to Tumblr. Finally, check out my Tumblr Klaine and CrissColfer Fics Masterpost for more fics by me. Thanks for reading!


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